


we're meant for the sea, you and i;

by balconys



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Comfort/Angst, Drabbles, Friendship/Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-07
Updated: 2013-09-07
Packaged: 2017-12-25 21:00:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/957554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/balconys/pseuds/balconys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>21 drabbles on Eren, Armin, and what lies in-between.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we're meant for the sea, you and i;

**we’re meant for the sea, you and i;**

 

.  
.

 

//   _howling ghosts they reappear_

_in mountains that are stacked with fear_

_but you’re a king and i’m a lionheart_ //

 

.  
.

 

**i. glass**

 

They are brittle things when night comes this swift, finding purchase in the warm corners of their bodies; angles alight with quiet rush of blood beneath skin. Here, in the darkness of their quarters Eren’s eyes glow green, so green they’re blue – and as Armin breathes into his mouth he watches as the color fogs, condensing into pinpricks of light.

 

**ii. genesis**

 

He isn’t quite sure how they begin, but Armin’s sure if he remembered, it would’ve went a little like this: Eren’s arm slung heavy around his shoulders, the smell of earth and rain, the sunlight between their teeth. And always: their hands clasped, fingers slotted tight – their laughter, an ocean all on its own.

 

**iii. youngblood**

 

It’s easy to forget, sometimes, amidst the constant canopy of dread breathing down their neck and the rancor of blood married to the underside of their boots – that all things considered, they are still teenagers. Young, nothing left to lose, all of the world to gain. But as Armin stares blankly at the figure lying still beneath blinding white sheets, the time slipping away from his fingers feels like centuries he can never keep.

 

**iv. quest**

 

 _Did you know_ , Armin whispers into the space between them, cups it all into his chest, _mornings in deserts are really hot, but when night comes the temperature just drops – I read it all here, see, it’s called_ sand _– and in the ocean there are fishes bigger than horses, bigger than titans! One day—_ he lets it hover, presses a wobbly little smile against the sweet curve of Eren’s neck - and Eren _knows_.

 

( _It’ll be ours, all of it_.)

 

 

**v. verity**

 

They are dreamers at best, and reality likes to find them in the gray trickle of the morning in the barracks, in the dark blood crusting under their nails, the high whine of their gear as they charge in flight, inches from an end. It finds Eren in the snap of bone and metal behind him, a shard of brittle breath lost to the clamor until it quiets, quiets, and then: silence.

 

 

**vi. letter**

 

_Yaeger,_

 

Finally awake, princess? Thank the gods you found this letter. Hope you’re doing well and all that yadda-yadda, but look here, fuckface. I remembered Armin telling me before that the ‘pen is mightier than the sword’ or something like that, so we decided to give it a try. I’ll be square with you because it seems one needs to be that way to get any point through that thick skull of yours. Here I go:

  
PLEASE FUCK ARMIN I REPEAT PLEASE FUCK ARMIN ALREADY I SWEAR ON THIS GORGEOUS FACE I WON’T BE AN ASS ABOUT IT AFTER SO YES?

 

Thanks. – _Jean_

 

I second that. Armin’s a good kid. Just do him, alright? If it helps, the girls can hear you when you do your thing in the bathroom. It’ll do you a world of good, trust me. – _Annie_

 

I didn’t know you swung that way, but it’s cool man, it’s cool. Send my regards to your future titan-ass-kicking babies. – _Connie_

 

Invite us to the baby shower! There’ll be cake, right? – _Sasha_

 

 _Much love,_  
  
Your best buds

 

 

**vii. lionheart**

 

Eren cannot even begin to fathom how the others can doubt Armin when he’s like this: eyes bright, defiant, spine set like a proud tower as he fixes their gazes together. _If it guarantees your survival_ , Armin says; brilliant, brilliant Armin – Eren has to look away, forcing a saliva-stone down his throat, _then my life is yours._

 

 

 

**viii. play**

 

“Having friends is nice,” Armin muses.

 

( _Armin in panties_ , Connie whispers into his ear one day. Eren sprays his soup all over Annie. Somewhere behind him, his friends crumple into themselves in laughter.)

 

 

**ix. faith**

“ _What the fuck is taking so long, Yaeger?”_ For the first time Lance Corporal Levi’s voice wavers on its stony quality, brimming with something else entirely, something foreign, and Eren has to jerk his bloody chin up to regard him warily.

 

“Sorry, I-I’m _trying_ , but I can’t—“ Behind him, Eren sinks his teeth into the meat of his palm once again, feeling the hot rush of blood and the bone give over his tongue. He holds it there, even as his fingers jerk and the pain lulls him into someplace safe, someplace warm—

 

Mikasa pulls his hand away, horrified. “Enough,” she bites out, brows tightly knit. She turns to Levi. “There must be some other way.”

 

Hundreds of deranged keening sounds puncture the air below, the _scratch-scratch-scratch_ of colossal fingers scrambling against the watchtower.  Levi’s eyes shift from his empty gas compartment to the dulled blades tossed across the floor like debris, and finally, return to her. The message is clear.

 

“I can still do it, just,” trembling, Eren pulls his wrist back from Mikasa and clamps hard again. And chokes on his own blood. On the opposite edge of the tower, Armin’s mouth parts in a tiny escape of breath.

 

“A clear goal,” he wonders out loud, slowly returning to Eren’s side. He grips his best friend’s shoulder tight, feeling the tautness there. “All you need is a clear goal, right? So,” Armin looks at him straight in the eye, smiles, tries not to shake. “I trust you, Eren. You know that, right? I trust you.” A pause. There is a plea there, hidden in the corners of his lips. Then, he turns back and begins walking away.

 

“Wait, I don’t get it,” Eren begins, red dribbling down his neck; wondering at the lines of his back – _when did he grow so tall?_ – and watches as his friend breaks into a jog, faster, faster, and, “Armin, what the hell are you—“

 

Armin’s foot breaches the edge.

 

Mikasa is the first one to realize. “ _Armin, don’t you dare—“_

 

One last look, tossed over his shoulder like an afterthought and it hits Eren like a punch to the gut—

 

 His golden head disappears below.

 

 

**x. words**

 

 _Eren is like the sun_ , Armin writes into musky parchment, fingers slipping around his quill and the tips of his ears flushed ripe-red _. I want to set him up against the light, watch him bend in a thousand fleeting colors._

 

 

**xi. home**

Eren smells like sweat and the forest after it rains; his face, a set of hard, angry lines, oftentimes decked with angrier blues. Wordlessly, Armin catches up with Eren’s pace and lets the day settle between them, their elbows brushing.

 

(It’s where he belongs.)

 

 

**xii. aftershocks**

 

“Don’t you _ever_ do that again, fuck,” What’s meant to be a snarl comes out as an almost-whisper, a careless tumble of breath. Eren remembers how the fear crept past his lips, the taste of it; rancid at the roof of his mouth.

 

And Armin - whole and safe and _living_ Armin – curls his hand against Eren’s neck and allows himself a smile. “Okay.”

 

(He doesn’t apologize.)

 

 

**xiii. shiver**

 

 

Here are a few small truths:

 

1\. The chances of surviving a fall from Wall Maria headfirst are very nearly nonexistent.

 

2\. Mikasa is, quite in fact, a female.

 

3\. Mornings in the boys’ quarters smell like dead flowers and piss.

 

4\. The color of blood grows lighter once exposed to oxygen.

 

5\. Armin is the bravest of them all.

 

(And so, when Eren asks him to defy the world for him: he does.)

 

 

**xiv. lesson**

When they’re eight, Eren teaches Armin to fight. Or at least, tries to.

 

“It’s okay,” Eren tells him after hours and hours of the blue-eyed boy staggering to his feet, losing balance and flailing tightly clenched fists into the air. He takes Armin’s hands in his and traces his thumb absentmindedly over the pliant ridges. “Your hands were made for prettier things, anyway.”

 

**xv. victory**

  

The night after they officially graduate, the squad goes dancing.

 

It’s a simple affair, really, but there’s a folk band and booze and they’re all in dizzying spirits – and really, that’s all they need. In the center Sasha shrieks as she tosses her skirt like a hurricane over the table, her hair down, mouth irrevocably full; the boys have discarded their boots to climb up barefoot after her. It’s a pulse, the spell of drums; beating along with everyone in the room, and when Eren offers his hand to Armin, bright-eyed and lips a breathless pink, he takes it, lets Eren spin him around, into his arms, into the air, doesn’t think.

 

 

**xvi. burial at sea**

 

“It’s fairly simple,” Armin says. “Driftwood is the best option, since it has a higher chance of staying afloat for a longer stretch of time. The flowers are the easy part. Say, Eren, when I die—“

 

“Shut up, Armin.”

 

 

 

**xvii. choice**

 

“Now listen up, insolent brat,” Levi hisses into his face, blade leveled dangerously against his neck. “This is a fucking a war, and we all know there must be—there will be—sacrifices. Decisions. And I guarantee they will be a _pain_ in the ass, so the trick is to _get them over with_.” Slowly, the thin line of Levi’s mouth morphs into a smile. Eren swallows thickly. “So, here we go again. Scenario E: You’re in your titan from, and there are around six four-meter class titans emerging from your left, surrounding a useless team of ten. On your right is a seven-meter class, and it’s just about to flatten…” his gaze floats over his shoulder, where the rest are mounting their horses. “ _Arlert_. It’s gonna turn Arlert into a disgusting mash. Now, tell me: who do you save?”

 

Eren stiffens, frowning, but keeps his gaze. “…Armin, sir.”

 

A blow explodes on his cheek, and he lands painfully on his right wrist.

 

“Wrong answer,” Levi’s boot lands with a thud, barely an inch from his fingers. “Think again.”

 

Eren blinks. “I-I don’t understand,” behind him, he can hear their squad getting into position. “But maybe Armi—“

 

“I’m sorry, don’t think I heard that right,” Levi’s heel presses down on his pinky.

 

(Eren understands the weight of this, feels it settling cold in his gut. At their core human beings have always been selfish, anyway; his answer is the same.)

 

“Naïve boy,” is all that finally reaches Eren’s ears when the Corporal purses his lips, releases his foot, and leaves him on the grass.

 

**xviii. bones**

At the end of the day, they are nothing more than this; built on embers and detritus and a thousand broken toys. Armin cups Eren’s trembling face in his hands, kisses the ash from his eyes.

 

They break together.

 

 

**xix. flicker**

 

“Don’t do this Armin,” The sound of Eren’s voice is like smoke sputtering out of cold chimneys; hot and thick and fading fast from his ears. “You won’t, right? You can’t. They’re human too.”

 

 _Please_ , is what Eren doesn’t say, but Armin hears it nonetheless. _Tell me you won’t._

 

Armin doesn’t speak.

 

**xx. sun**

 

The first time they kiss, it’s an uncalculated mess of teeth and hair, the morning too bright and Eren’s tongue jammed in-between their teeth in a way that makes Armin suddenly snort into the kiss.

 

None of them expects it to end like this, but it’s okay, it’s perfect, because they’re both grinning at each other shyly like a bunch of prepubescent girls, hearts pounding so fast and smiling the kind of smiles Armin’s sure are absolutely _glowing_.

 

**xxi. and, finally;**

 

Standing at the edge of the world, two boys weave a home out of gilded waves and forest wreaths and the light spilling on their toes from dying stars worlds away.

 

It’s a good ending, isn’t it?

 

(Except it’s not. It’s just the beginning.)

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: aaaaaand thus my first contribution to the fandom came into creation. I love this ship okay it reaches down into the very fabric of my being I LOVE IT SO MUCH IT HURTS PHYSICALLY YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND. I wasn’t able to flesh out any concrete idea for a fic, so I decided to stick with drabbles to get a feel of writing these two cuties (and have some fun without taking it too seriously) Lyrics at the beginning are from King and Lionheart by Of Monsters and Men. Give it a listen guys, it’s gorgeous. Thanks for reading!


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